Rukky stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching Josh's unconscious form sprawled across the bed, his mouth open, drool staining the pillow, the smell of alcohol so strong it made her stomach turn; he had come home drunk again, stumbling through the door at three in the morning, shouting incoherently before collapsing into bed without even removing his shoes.

This was her life now, had been her life for years, waiting for him to come home drunk or angry or both, bracing herself for his ...